Frozen - Tales of the Heart
by LeGrande Grover
Summary: A series of individual short stories based on The Snow Queen and the FireHeart, mostly focusing on the Elsa/Yasha romance.
1. The Marigold Afternoon

**The Marigold Afternoon**

A cool afternoon breeze was blowing through the balcony doors of Elsa's bedchambers, casting a pleasant air through the room and accentuating the soft murmurs of voices inside. On a large, plush sofa in the corner of the room, facing a large plated window that gazed to the fjord beyond, Elsa was sitting causally with her legs tucked up under her, with her hands carefully handling the figure of Yasha as he lay with his head in her lap. Her blue eyes were watching him intently, her white teeth biting onto her red lip.

It was as if everything that mattered would be decided by his reaction, and her heart was beating anxiously in her chest.

She was waiting for his response. "Well? What do you think?" she asked.

Yasha's brow was furrowed, and his lips and mouth were moving slowly. His eyes were on the small chocolate between his fingers, noticing the smooth ridges from where his teeth chipped away an accommodating bite. With the amount of attention she was giving his assessment, he was making sure to fully appreciate how this meant to her. "It is sweet," he remarked, and his face was showing signs of his indifference to the treat.

Elsa nodded in a dreamy haze and she looked to the plate of chocolates on the table next to the sofa. She already wanted to eat another one, though she was trying to show some restraint with him around. "I know. Isn't chocolate the most wonderful thing?" she sighed.

"It is very sweet," he repeated.

By now, she had caught on to his mood and smirked down at him, noticing he had not even taken another bite. "Is that all you have to say?" she asked.

Yasha's eyes slowly moved up to her, noticing how she was unimpressed with his impression of the treat. He did not share her affection for the confection, though he did enjoy the mood it put her in. "It is also very…brown," he conceded.

The comment did little to appease her and she sighed, a little sad that he did not share her love for chocolate, though she resolved to see if she could change his mind over time. "You're probably the only person in Arendelle that doesn't like chocolate, you know," she said.

"Perhaps. I may also be the only one who has not been eating it since I was a child," he replied.

The reminder of his childhood made Elsa frown, and she did not want the mood to be soured by thoughts of his tragic history. There were too many tears in those reflections, and she wanted to enjoy these quiet moments with him without the shadows of the past. "Fine, then let me have it," she demanded. Impishly, she opened her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting for him to deliver the rest of the treat to her waiting tongue. Yasha's smirk grew at her childish response, though he was taken by how attractive she was in the midst of it. Had he not been lying with his head in her lap, he might have given in to his sudden desire to replace the chocolate with a well-timed kiss. Instead, he slowly put it into her mouth, watching her red lips closed around the treat and then deliver a soft kiss to his fingertips to suckle the last bits of melted chocolate that remained. After such a delicate act, her blue eyes fluttered open to him and she smiled, with the slightest blush on her cheeks.

"I will admit that I do not hate chocolate, however," he stated as he watched her caress the treat in her mouth until it was no more.

Her eyes sparkled as she looked down at him. These halcyon days with him were more than she could have ever imagined, especially in light of the serrated path they had walked to get there. With how tumultuous their time together had been, these quiet moments alone, with her fingers playfully twirling his dark hair, seemed like an adequate reward for the trials they had attended.

As Yasha settled once more, his hands laid carelessly across his chest, he closed his eyes and relaxed. Sitting in the bedchambers of the Queen, resting in her lap and feeling the intoxicating touch of her hands was such a stark contrast to all of his life before that a part of him suspected that it might all be a dream. Sometimes he imagined he would awaken in the dank corner of his grotto, finding dripping stone and only pale light filling the world around him. There were nights when he would be torn from his sleep, covered in cold sweat and remembering the darkness of his life before she was a part of it. The sensation of being so lost was frightening. Yet, he would then feel her at his back, calming him as she fought away the darkness and reminded him that the darkness was the dream, and the touch of her hand was the reality.

With the loving touch of her hand, she could fight away the fears born from a lifetime of fire, and lay him back at her side.

Elsa was watching his relaxed face, her hands reveling in their dominance of him. "Are you happy here, Yasha?" she suddenly asked, brushing aside some dark hair from his face.

He did not open his eyes. "Why do you ask me questions of which you already know the answer?" he replied.

The response caused her to laugh lightly, knowing he was right. "Maybe I just like to hear the sound of your voice," she mused.

"Perhaps you'd like me to recite a sonnet, or an epic poem then?" he suggested, though his voice was heavy with sarcasm. In the time she had really gotten to know him, she had found such strange disparity within him. He was a prince that had never worn a crown. He had lived like a pauper for nearly his entire life, yet carried himself regally and commanded the very air around him. He had never been formally trained in art or music, yet could coax such powerful melodies from his bamboo flute that it often brought tears to her eyes.

He was a man of contradiction, but that was just one of the reason she had grown to love him, even when he was a little too harsh on himself for the lack of formal manners.

"You could read a recipe for potato soup, and I'd hang on every word," she countered, brushing the back of her fingers down his cheek.

Yasha slowly opened his eyes, looking up at her intently. He did not quite understand how she could so easily look past his deficiencies, ones that were often spoken about by others in her court when they thought no one could hear. While she and Anna had both been so quick to accept him in their world, he found that many others in the castle did not share those sentiments, especially considering his efforts to kidnap the Princess and the details that came to light in the destruction of his kingdom. It was as if he lived in two worlds now, one where he was a shadow in the halls of Arendelle, catching whispers and narrowed glances as he passed by, and the other a dream-like state where he could banter with Anna in the gardens of the castle or lie tangled in the arms of the Snow Queen, completely content and unsettlingly happy.

Without a word about the former world, he resolved to keep Elsa only in the latter. "You will need four potatoes, a cup of cream…" he began, a playful smile touching the corner of his lips.

Elsa laughed. She did not understand why the simplest of things about him captured her, but she realized that even when they had been joking about it, she really could have just listened to him name an insignificant list of ingredients, just because she wanted to be in his world. It did not matter how.

"Marigolds," she suddenly said after the humor had settled, though it brought a smirk across his face.

"I do not think I have ever heard of such a recipe," he replied.

Elsa laughed again, then shook her head. "Not that. I mean that whenever I look at you, and I try to imagine what kind flower you'd be, I can only think of one," she explained.

"Marigolds."

The abstract subject made him smirk even more, wondering where it was coming from. He felt a bit guilty as he wondered if this was common recreation of the royals of Arendelle, to guess what kind of flowers best suited people, and that it was just another thing he did not understand about royal life. But he did see how interested she was in it, and the way it made her eyes glimmer. He would not take that lightly. "Why marigolds?" he asked, slightly interested.

Elsa thought a moment, stroking her fingers through his hair. "Because they're colorful and beautiful, and because they have layers, just like you," she explained, tilting her head as she spoke and caressing him just like she would a delicate flower.

"And because whenever I see them, they make me happy."

The last part was accompanied by a slight blush on her face, though she continued to look at him strongly and demand that he understand. Truthfully, she had been thinking about this a lot lately, ever since she had seen a vase full of the flowers and the way the colors of orange, yellow and red seemed to blend and merge into what looked just like the blossom of fire, something that always made her think of him. It was just one more thing that did so, though there was no shortage of those lately. Everything made her think of him, but the flowers were something tangible, and romantic to consider.

"I see," he replied stiffly, somewhat breaking the mood that she had built for them. She could see the confusion in his face, and she realized that this was the sort of thing he was not good at. It was strange how he was so skilled at certain aspects of their romance, yet seemed so lost about others.

"What about me? What kind of flower am I?" she asked, dismissing his heavy expression and hoping to lighten him up. Truthfully, she would accept anything he had for her, even if it was not clever or romantic. She expected him to say 'rose' or 'lily' just to appease her, and that would have been enough. It was just a simple game, just to get him to talk to her.

Yasha seemed disturbed by her simple game and sat silently for a while. "I will have to give it some thought," he finally replied, sighing heavily and looking at the ceiling with a despondent expression.

His sour response made her purse her lips together, feeling disappointed that he could not play such a lighthearted game. There were often reminders of how much different they were, and she tried to think of something to say to him to rebuild the atmosphere. But nothing came to mind, and she felt just as frustrated in not being able to coax him into this part of her world.

"Oh, okay," she sighed as well, resting her hands as she felt the mood seep out of her chambers.

Over the next several days, Elsa did not see much of Yasha, which was a shocking surprise to her. He did not come to her balcony at night, and when she saw him in the castle during the day, he would formally address her and leave her to her duties, something that was making her panic inside. Even asking Anna gave did not help, as her sister had not seen much of him either. Sometimes he was not seen for the whole of the day, with one really sure what he was doing.

In truth, his distant attitude was really beginning to concern her.

After several more days of this unsettling pace, Elsa was feeling distraught and exhausted, both from her duties as Queen but also because of the absence in her life. Another day had passed without being able to see him, and she entered into her chambers with a heavy sigh. Her eyes were cast to the floor as she leaned back against the closed door, not even responding as the guard wished her a good night. There would be no good night as long as she could not meet him. Silence filled the air, even as she secretly was hoping to hear the soft notes of his flute on her balcony, though her expectations were met with silence.

"What happened to you?" she whispered to the empty room, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself for a moment. As they often had since he disappeared, scolding thoughts filled her mind, whispering that she had driven him away somehow, that her games were insensitive to the troubles she knew he was having with adjusting to life in Arendelle. If they were true and she was the reason for him to grow so distant, there would be no measure of forgiveness in her heart, and she wondered just how she could come to terms with that terrible fact. If only she could talk to him, she would apologize for anything she might have said to make him act this way.

At the moment, she would do anything to bring him back to her.

The silence of the room was suddenly broken by a strange sound, and Elsa became aware of it instantly. It was like the crashing of waves against the shore, or the thunder of a distant storm. Her blue eyes rose to the source of the sound, and found something on her bed, swaying in the breeze from her open window and rasping against the quiet of the night. Her heart leaping, she quickly ran over and found a large bundle of paper, folded up carefully and waved to her in the wind, crackling and roaring against the silence that had settled over her. There were no marks. There was no ribbon. There were no indications of who it was from, but she instantly knew the answer and could barely contain her excitement as she seized the paper and eagerly began to unwrap it.

As she unfolded a large, careful fold, she found a potent, weedy smell hit her and the glimpse of something dark blue and purple. Inside the bundle was a carefully placed sprig of flowers, though she quickly came realize that even though this was Yasha's answer to her, it was not at all what she had expected, or hoped for.

"Foxglove?" she asked to the silence, her brow furrowed and her heart heavy. The bell-shaped flowers were not her favorite, and were actually the last choice she would have made. The flowers themselves gave off no considerable fragrance, they did not capture the heart as a rose would, and it was a well-known fact that the entire plant was actually poisonous to anyone careless enough to ingest it. There was nothing about them that referenced any romantic trait in her, and that was what kept her brow furrowed in disappointment.

In every conceivable manner, this was the worst answer to give her, and she could not even begin to grasp his meaning as she unfolded the last crease of the paper.

Elsa gasped. Her shaky fingers now rose up to his lips and she let out a choking breath, feeling her angry mood dissipate instantly. In spite of the way she had been tormented over the last few days by his bizarre behavior, she suddenly came to realize that what he had been doing was very much like him. He had obviously spent every moment of his time simply trying to answer her playful question, taking something that was supposed to be a game and turning it into an epic quest.

For even something as trivial as this game of hers, he had been trying to make sure his answer reflected the exact meaning in his heart.

The fact that he had taken it so seriously and caused her so much concern made her want to punish him the next time she saw him, but the answer he ultimately gave and the lengths he would go to just to respond to her feelings made her want to claim him instead, and give him an appropriate reward to the simple sentence written carefully on the last fold of paper.

_In the meadows around Arendelle, Foxglove can always be found together with Marigolds._


	2. A Tale of Two Princes

**A Tale of Two Princes**

In the endlessly sapphire waters of the Southern Seas, the merchant ship _CounterPoint_ was cutting through the waves, having recently taken a load of cargo and passengers from a port in the Southern Isles, not the least of which was a royal delegation of a single, young prince and the elder advisor assigned to him. It was a trip among many, and the purpose almost seemed moot. This was simply routine, scaled against the much bigger destiny that awaited the young prince just beyond the horizon.

The spray of salt water greeted him as he exited the cabin, and the roll of the ship bumped him playfully into the railing as the sun was slowly dipping into the distant horizon. Looking into the brilliant oranges and reds, the young prince smiled at the warm, southern breeze, feeling the way it ran through his hair and cooled him from the stuffy air still clinging to his clothes. He was glad he had escaped the attentive eye of his escort. There was only so much advising he could stand for one day, especially when the crystal blue water stretched out endlessly before him and the cry of gulls beckoned him to the deck.

"Well, that should give me a few hours of peace and quiet," he mused to himself as he closed the door behind him, remembering how the old man had fallen asleep right at the table, his tea cup still clutched in his hand. As an afterthought, he thought himself generous when he draped a blanket over him, to keep out the coming night, then shook off his kind-heartedness as he looked out over the ship. It was littered with deckhands, and a few scattered passengers. Next to the cabin door, the cell was locked tight with a young thief sitting pathetically inside. The prince smiled slightly. "Try not to get caught next time," he advised as he fixed his collar, then stretched as he walked out over the deck, his boots thundering heavily across the wood.

It was nice to be headed away from home. There was always excitement at visiting a foreign land as an official of his kingdom, be it for the exotic food or interesting people. He had seen things in the world that ignited a bit of wanderlust within him, and he longed to find his place in that world. When his duties were fulfilled, he would have to return home, but he was not dreading that idea as much as he had in the past. There was just as much interest in returning home and reaping the rewards of his duties, but it was not the pride in his kingdom that drove him to return.

There was something else entirely to his plans, and they involved a great deal of patience and a lot of maneuvering.

Weaving through the maze of workers, he headed towards the bow of the ship, hoping it would be less crowded. He purposelessly wondered if he would see land in the distance, just to imagine that it would be somewhere other than the land he had just left.

"Oh?" the young prince sighed, stopping as he found another person at the front of the ship leaning against the railing and watching the horizon as well. He appeared to be about the same age, though his clothes were vastly different. His hair was long and dark, and was tousled in the sea breeze. At first, the young prince thought of finding somewhere else to go, but a light shrug overtook him as he continued to the bow.

There was no reason to change his plans for anyone.

"Nice sunset," he said, stepping up to the rail and looking over at the other young man. He had the strangest-colored eyes, pale and clear, and they were set forward with an unusual force that struck the young prince.

"Yes," the other replied without even looking at him. Intrigued by the lick of his accent and finding the chilly response amusing, the young prince shrugged it off and looked ahead as well, finding the breeze refreshing. It was a good idea to come after all, even if he did not have friendliest companion.

Stretching his arms above his head, the let the tension of the mood bleed away and resolved to make the best of it. "Ahhhh, so! What takes you into the Southern Seas, friend?" he asked, trying to strike up conversation once more.

The other young man was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "One place is as good as another," he replied.

"An adventurer, huh? Out to see new worlds and such? You travel pretty light, though," the prince remarked, looking over his appearance and its apparent lack of supplies, or at least the kind no smart traveler would leave alone on a crowded ship. His eyes lingered on the single, ivory-handled dagger at his belt, and he found it to be beautiful and simple.

The other looked down at his clothing for a moment, then casually looked back out to sea. "A man does not need much to live," he replied, shortly once more.

"And a poet as well. You've quite the repertoire, friend, though you're a little light on conversation," remarked the prince, taking another long glance over the man and finding that there was something about him that he liked - something that reminded him of himself. That semblance made him warm up to the cold fellow.

"Prince Hans, of the Southern Isles," he stated, extending his hand out to him.

Glancing down at the hand, the young man slowly raised his eyes back to him, as if trying to determine his intent. It was not every day that a prince so forcefully struck a conversation across the stone. "Yasha, of Fria," he replied and did not take his hand.

Hans smirked at his response, but was feeling generous and lowered his hand. He would not hold his rudeness against him, for now. "Fria? I don't think I've ever heard of it. Is it far from here?" he asked, leaning back on the rail and giving this new acquaintance his full attention.

Yasha thought for a moment. "North. And East, perhaps," he guessed.

"Oh, I sort of know the area. Is it close to Arendelle, by chance?" Hans asked, feeling his heart pick up just by the mention of that place. It was tied so intimately to his destiny that he had trouble thinking of anything else when it was all but mentioned before him.

Yasha sighed, finding this prince was not going to simply move on. Standing straighter, he faced him as he leaned against the rail. "It is a place I do not know well, but it is not far from Fria," he replied.

Hans smiled, his mind wandering a bit. "I hear it has the finest goods in the land. And the castle is particularly stunning," he replied, a strangely devious smile crossing his face.

Yasha was lost on his meaning, but shrugged it aside as small talk. He had little care for what interested this prince, except that at the moment, what interested him appeared to be Yasha. "Perhaps I will visit it then, on your good advice," he said.

"I plan on making a trip there soon myself," Hans replied, looking out over the sea and trying to make out the horizon. His mind was reviewing and calculating, and his hands were moving at the very thought of what was to come. There was still much to do, and so many other steps to take before he would be ready to make that trip.

Hans became lost in thought.

Yasha had been watching him, now oddly interested in him as well. This was a normal prince from a normal kingdom, doing the normal things that royalty did. For some reason, that appealed to him. "What is it like?" he suddenly asked, snaring Hans's attention.

"Huh? What is what like?" he asked, feeling a little annoyed at being torn from his own little world.

"Your kingdom. What is the life of a prince there?" Yasha asked, watching him intently for an answer.

Hans sighed heavily. "Well, it's great, except for the fact there's twelve older ones just like me. I can't even begin to tell you some of the things I had to deal with growing up, and twelve older brothers puts you pretty far down on the food chain. Sometimes, it's like I don't even exist," he lamented, though looked out over the endless sea with determined eyes and great expectations. The days of being marginalized would soon come to an end, all by the efforts of his own hand.

"But, that will change soon."

"How?" Yasha replied, canting his head as he was fascinated by that expression.

Hans snapped out of his mood and looked at him, then laughed and shrugged playfully. "Well now, if I went around telling that to every guy on a boat, I'd lose all of my best moves, now wouldn't I?" he replied, though he was taking a liking to this adventurer from Fria and felt like he could risk a little to gloat. It was unlikely he would ever meet him again anyhow. "But I'll give you a hint," he said, placing his hand on Yasha's shoulder and leaning in closely.

"Princesses."

Yasha blinked. "Princesses...?"

"That's right. Princesses are the things that make dreams come true. Especially the beautiful ones," he explained, smiling for his new friend.

His new friend seemed lost. "I do not understand," he said dryly.

"Come on, who doesn't love a beautiful princess? I hear they fetch a high price here in the Southern Seas. Am I right?" Hans cheered, looking around to the deckhands and hoping for some kind of confirmation. They appeared to be men of dubious character, and the area's notoriety was well-known throughout the world.

A few looked, but none answered as they continued about their duties.

Hans dismissed their poor response and turned back to Yasha. "Forget them. Look, the most natural thing for a prince to do is to seek out a princess, right? But you have to find the right one. That, my friend, is the key. Finding the right one," he explained watching humorously as Yasha was still confused.

"And a princess will make you happy?" he asked, his brow twisted in confusion.

"Me?" he replied, then laughed loudly and leaned in close once more, "One or two. It all depends on the situation, and one's ability to handle it."

"It sounds complicated," Yasha sighed, not looking convinced.

"Oh, it is! You can't very well sneak into someone's castle and snatch up any princess lying around. It takes careful planning and a brilliant scheme to really _appreciate_ what a princess has to offer," Hans said darkly, searching Yasha's face for an indication that he was the type of person he guessed him to be.

Yasha snorted. "It does not sound like a noble pursuit," he replied, searching his eyes for the same things.

"The pursuit is not the point. It's the result that counts," Hans pointed out.

Yasha studied him for a moment, though he had little issue with that logic. As this point in his life, with his tragic destiny hanging over him, it was something he was inclined to believe in as well. An impending, meaningless death had a way of sculpting one's values. "And this result you seek is...?" he asked.

Hans slowly stood straight, looking out over the sea and imagining a towering castle out before him, with a golden throne and a golden crown. "A kingdom of my own," he said, raising his hands out to try and draw the splendor for him. It was what he was driving at, and the sum of all of his efforts. So much information gathering and political favors, just to be the one to attend that upcoming coronation and put his plan into motion.

It was too bad he could not tell his new friend all about it, but that was too much risk. He would have to be satisfied with vague hints and innuendos.

Yasha tried to look out over Hans's kingdom, but did not see it. He saw something else - a kingdom under a mountain. There was fire and ash, and the looming shadow of a malevolent king that haunted his every thought. Their goals were very similar, yet also very far apart.

Yasha did not seek a kingdom of his own.

He wanted to destroy one.

"I do not believe a princess would give me the result I seek," he pointed out, looking at Hans with a smirk.

His expression made Hans laugh, and he clapped him across the shoulder, raising a finger at him. "That's because you haven't found the right one yet," he replied.

As he was pondering that point, the deckhands on the ship were going around lighting the torches, as the setting sun had finally left a blanket of darkness over the ship. When the closest torch was set ablaze, the sudden flare seemed to disturb Yasha, making him stand stiffly and stare back at the raging torch. He did not know why, but the flames seemed dimmer these days, and they seemed to light a desperate feeling within him.

So little time left, and only a pathetic tinderbox fate to be seen.

Hans noticed his reaction, and grinned. "What, a little fire scares you?" he asked playfully.

Yasha slowly looked to Hans, the flames reflected in his pale eyes, and strange smirk played over the corner of his lips. The irony of the question was heavy. "No," he replied, "it does not."

The two of them spent a great deal of the evening just chatting over the black waters of the sea. It was a strange friendship forged out of convenience and isolation, and neither of them had much expectation to ever meet again. They had much in common, even those buried things that did not come out during polite conversation, yet were not offended by the differences either. Hans did not speak of the royal sisters of Arendelle, nor his carefully constructed plans for them. Yasha did not speak of a twilight task, as of yet horded by a wicked King.

They both had their secrets, and were completely unaware at how those secrets would cross and collide down these fated pathways before them.

In the end, there was a clamor at the other end of the ship, with someone calling out loudly for the prince. Hans looked over his shoulder and sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I guess it didn't last as long as I thought," he remarked, more to himself than to his new friend.

Yasha had glanced towards the noise, then to this interesting prince before him. Oddly, he had never once told him of his own royal lineage, yet Hans had treated him like they both bore a crown, which was strangely endearing. It was not often he was treated in such a way. "The duties of a Prince?" he asked.

Hans laughed bitterly, turning to him as he shrugged. "Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to in order to get what we want," he replied, taking a long look at this intriguing person from Fria, before giving him a genuine smile and raising his hand out one more time between them. "Consider that my last piece of advice to you, Yasha of Fria." Hans had the feeling he would not have the chance to see him again before they made port, and that was disappointing. It was strangely pleasant to chat with him.

Yasha looked to his hand once more. Their time had seemed brief, and he honestly still did not know anything about him, other than that Yasha looked at him with a strange sense of longing. He was not sure if he wanted to be friends with Hans, or simply _be _Hans. Slowly but strongly, he reached out and took his hand, feeling a bit of sadness at losing this fledgling friendship so early. Yet, he knew this was how things had to be.

In the cold reality of the moment, he accepted that they lived in different worlds, and they both had their own destinies to fulfill.

"I hope you find the kingdom you seek, Prince of the Southern Isles," he replied.

The sounds of more yelling and his name being screamed over the ship made Hans wince and let go of Yasha's hand, then smile sheepishly as he turned to leave. "May we meet again someday," he replied, winking, "Once we've both found our princesses, of course." With that bit of merriment, Hans left Yasha alone at the bow of the ship, resolved to go smooth over the anger of his advisor and continue on his path to the coronation. An entire performance was waiting for him, though he did not want to forget this meeting. He made it a point to remember to visit Fria after his plan had come to fruition, and visit this nighttime friend he had found in the Southern Seas.

Walking forcefully forward, he planned to make it his first trip as King of Arendelle.


End file.
